


Wächter-Engel

by Bourdieflies



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Coffee Shops, Do you even need an ace bandage for 3 weeks?, Hot Chocolate, M/M, Marc still plays for Borussia in this, Stalker-ish Rafa, Whipped Cream, concussion, probably not, sprained ankle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 08:43:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4215234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bourdieflies/pseuds/Bourdieflies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Marc is a goalie for a rival high school team and Rafa almost scores but ends up getting tackled, sprains his ankle, and gets a concussion. Ter Stegen just happens to be his guardian angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wächter-Engel

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive me if this is utter shit since this is my first work in the fandom/fanbase. Idk if you're actually supposed to have an ace bandage on a sprained ankle for three weeks but let's roll with it. I honestly love this pairing so much. I was really excited about this. I somehow wrote this is two days. It's also not beta-ed, so there's probably a shit ton of mistakes. Sorry!

Rafinha didn't usually have a chance to score. The ball was usually passed to Leo or Neymar or Suárez. He was even lucky to come within ten feet of the ball, let alone pass, or even score. But no one was open. So he took his chance. 

The centre-back was huge, nearly a head taller than him, but Rafa was faster. He easily pushed the ball between his legs. The goal was right there. All he had to do was kick and maybe it'd make it past the keeper. If it did, he'd most likely get some praise from Leo. He wasn't Neymar, constantly following him around like a love sick puppy, but everyone loved Leo, and everyone especially loved when he praised them. 

When he brought his leg back, his foot connected with the polyester sphere. He didn't see if it hit the right or the left corner, or even the crossbar since he was on his back, seeing stars. Metaphorically of course since it was only four o'clock and the sun was still shinning. 

There was too much noise, or was there none? His head was swimming. It all happened too fast. Was that his leg hurting? Or his head? What the hell happened? 

He could feel a hand on his shoulder. The hand was so big and warm that he felt as if were covering his entire bicep. Blearily looking at the figure, he swore he was looking at an angel. (He'd sooner die than ever repeat it, but Stegen did look like a guardian angel.)

"Come on man, finish the game up," an accented voice came from this angel. Rafa quietly groaned. Shit, this angel was really hot. It wasn't fair. Why was all the hot guys practically the enemy? God damn his decision to go to the only school where there weren't a million hot guys that just happened to play football and were gay or even bi. 

Suddenly, the angel was gone from his side and he was on a stretcher. All he could see was his bright green laces and concerned looks on his teammates faces. He didn't realize he had closed his eyes until they were open and god, the lights in the room nearly burned his retinas. 

Rafa suffered for three weeks. A minor concussion and a sprained ankle forced him to be benched for the beginning of the season. Every time he watched his friends play, he wished to be out there, kicking the ball and playing keepy-uppy with Dani and Neymar. 

When he was finally able to play on his phone for longer than a few minutes, he finally started looking for the angel. It was easy to find the roster of the rival team. But finding the instagram of this Marc-André ter Stegen was a little harder. 

He spent a good week of his time looking for a picture. Even a team picture, anything! He just wanted to see if he was hallucinating or not. He wanted to see if his so called "guardian angel" was as beautiful as his concussed brain said. 

He didn't have to look very hard for a picture since he saw his guardian angel in person. In town, out of all the places. 

Rafa just happened to be with Dani and Neymar when he looked across the street. He paused and totally stopped responding, watching Marc like a stalker. Dani punched his arm when he refused to laugh at one of his jokes. Rafa suddenly yelled an apology and fast walked away from them, not wanting to loose sight of the goalie. Little did he know, Neymar and Dani just stood and watched him limp after his guardian angel. 

"Excuse me?" he called. Marc paused and glanced over his shoulder. Rafinha nearly laughed at the shocked look on his face. He caught up with the frozen goalie and smirked at him. Rafa's cheeks were burning cause god damn, his concussed brain was correct in thinking that the boy standing in front of him looked like a angel. 

"Hey…I'm Marc. I'm really sorry about what happened during that game. Borussia's players usually don't do that, but he was newbie and felt really guilty about what happened. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive my team," he said with a nervous smile. He kept twitching his fingers, or running them through his hair, or even straightening his clothes. Rafa couldn't help but watch his fingers move around. Swallowing, he mustered up a non-flustered looking smile. 

"No problem man. There's no hard feelings, really. Oh, I'm Rafael, but everyone calls me Rafinha or Rafa," he spoke, offering his hand for a shake. The boy in front of him didn't hesitant to put his freakishly warm and non-sweaty hand in his. 

Rafinha fell harder then he meant to. There was just something about the keeper that drew him in. 

"Do you…want to get a coffee with me?" Rafa asked, looking down at his shoes. When he looked back, he knew the answer. 

Maybe he was jumping to conclusions, but Rafa felt as if Marc was like him. Rafa wished as hard as he possibly could that Marc was like him. 

When they went to the coffee shop and sat at a booth, Rafinha threw all caution into the wind. He flirted. Oh shit, did he flirt. He flirted as hard as he could without it being too much or too weird. Marc flirted back, as much as his slightly shy personality let him. They both got hot chocolate with whipped cream on the top. Like all cliché movies, Rafa happened to get some whipped cream on his nose. 

Marc surprised him. In the movies, one person would wipe the whip cream off, look deeply into the others eyes, and passionately kiss the other. Well, Marc decided to go in reverse. 

He leant over and pecked Rafa on the lips. He gauged his response and smiled, then brought his hand up to wipe the whip cream off; He smiled wider at the shocked expression on the Brazilian's face. 

"Meu deus, I can't believe you just did that," Rafa murmured, touching his lips with a carefree smile.

"I can do it again if you want me to," Marc said, suddenly brave and energized and happy. 

Yes, three weeks without playing football was horrible. Yes, not getting that goal against Borussia was pretty disappointing. But sitting in a shitty café with the Borussia goalie, kissing and laughing and finally happy, Rafa didn't really mind the tight ace bandage wrapped around his ankle.


End file.
